


Just a Rainy Day in London

by onpage26



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Car Chases, Eventual Smut, F/M, Minor Violence, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onpage26/pseuds/onpage26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabelle runs into Benedict Cumberbatch. What started as a lovely run in and drinks leads to a frightening car chase and kidnapping. Can Benedict and Isabelle escape this scary stalker?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s raining, again. As I look up and feel the water pelt my face I wonder if it will ever surprise me that it’s raining in London, or anywhere in England for that matter. I pull my coat closer, not that it will help the fact that rain has already gotten inside – thank you wind; trudging forward along the sidewalk to my hotel room, I keep my head down. For all the rain, the sidewalks are swarming with people. I watch their feet and dodge the occasional brief case, but eventually I get hit. Either in the back, on the head, in the shoulder; I always end up getting hit.

One would think a 5’7” woman wearing a bright red jacket would stand out, but no it just makes me a better target. My name is Isabelle Morris; I am regretfully vacationing in England for I was taken in by the guise that England is beautiful in the spring. I suppose it is, when it isn’t raining; but since it has rained every one of the twelve days I have been here, I haven’t seen much beauty. I’m scheduled to stay in this god forsaken puddle of a country for another twenty or so days. That might not happen. I’m out of dry clothing and shoes. And yes before you ask, I did pack for a month and to answer the natural follow up question, yes I have worn a month’s worth of socks in less than two weeks.

To summarize, if you haven’t been following – I’ve been in London for less than two week, it has rained every one of those twelve days and I am out of dry clothes. Now I am trudging to a local pub to get at least moderately sloshed because I need to find a different way to keep warm.

Another shoulder rams into mine, a tall man this time. As he turns quickly, his elbow clips mine. Right on the damn “funny bone”. What’s so damn funny about this shooting pain? I glare at him, but quickly shock covers my features. It’s Benedict Cumberbatch! No, Izzy it can’t be Benedict Cumberbatch; you might be in the city where he lives but there is no possible way for it to be him. That would make the day a good one and lord knows we can’t have good days in the land of deluges.

He sets a hand on my arm to see if I am ok. It is him, his eyes give him away. He pulls me aside and we are standing under an awning as the sea of people swim past in waves of umbrellas and rain coats. I’m so taken aback by him I don’t register he is speaking.

“I asked, are you alright?”

I shake out of my daze and mutter, “Yes, yes I’m fine.” I figure he would let go of my arm and keep going but he doesn’t.

“You aren’t from around here are you?” He looks at me quizzically, “How long have you been in London?”

I finally get the courage to look him in the face. His sharp features, all the more harsh by the poor lighting. His skin looks almost sallow in the street lights. Dark auburn curls are plastered to his head, and piercing blue eyes stare back at me. “No, not from around here. From Quebec actually and I’ve been here for a whole exciting twelve days.”

A smile flickers across his features, “Do you want me to hail you a cab? You are soaked to the bone.”

“No, I was on my way the pub for a whisky.”

“The pub? Which pub is that, there are quite a few in London you know,” A smile starts to light up his face, the harsh lines of his cheeks not as strong and a bit of warmth seemed to creep back into his skin.

I smirk, “In truth I was going to stop at the first pub that I saw.” As much as I am enjoying this charming banter, I am starting to lose feeling in my feet. A shiver whips through me.

“Come on, I’ll not only get you a cab but drop you at the pub.” He walks to the edge of the sidewalk, taking me with him. He gives a hearty yell and a yellow cab pulls up. He holds the door open for me and I climb in. I hear him give the name of a pub through the front window and the door close; but to my surprise, I’m not alone. He looks over at me and shrugs, “A whisky sounds good.”

We sit in silence for a moment, until I blurt out, “Isabella.” He give me a look mixed with confusion and concern. “My name is Isabella. Sorry.” I look down at my hands, I’ve started bunching my jacket again. A charming nervous habit that my sister takes great joy in pointing out.

He holds out his hand, “Ben.” I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you Isabella, so what brings you to London?”

I let out a shaky laugh, the reality of it all hitting me all at once. “Vacation if you can believe it. Someone lied to me and said England is beautiful in the spring.”

Ben chuckled, “I can see where you could have thought otherwise. If it helps it hasn’t rained this much consecutively for years. Here we are.” He helped me out of the cab and we walked into a little stone pub.

The door was blue, it had been recently painted green but thanks to the rain the paint has now more or less washed off. An old gaslight replica hangs next to the sign for the pub, a carefully hand painted sign that stated, “St. George’s Pub” had been in existence since the 1700’s. A few steps down worn stone stairs ushered you into a long and narrow room with low ceiling complete with exposed beams and white washed walls. At one end a large stone fireplace a blaze warmed the whole place. I immediately gravitated towards the flames.

“Find a seat near the fire and I’ll meet you with drinks. First round’s on me, a whisky right?” Ben asked with a smile.

“Erm, thanks. Yes a whisky sounds great and thank you once again.” I watch him make his way to the bar, even in a damp rain coat the man still looks good. As I work my way to the two empty chairs near the coat rack I surreptitiously look for cameras. Not that the show “Punked” ever had English stars on it but I was seriously doubting the legitimacy of the situation I was in.

I struggle out of my jacket, and hang it on the peg closest to the fire and my seat. Pulling off my also soaked sweater and draping that over my chair to mark our seats left me in a damp black tee shirt with soaked blue skinny, now super skinny, jeans and what was a cute pair of boots that hit mid calf. Supposedly they were waterproof but I found that to be a lie. I stood next to the fire feeling my clothing dry. The blaze was very warm, so by the time Ben returned with our drinks my shirt was dry and my jeans only slightly damp. As I walked back to our table I snagged a third chair; one for Ben, one for me, and one to dry my sweater.

He set our drinks down and gracefully pulled his own jacket off. After Ben sat down I asked as casually as I could, “Do you usually help wet and lost tourists to bars?”

His features closed off briefly, “No.”

When he didn’t offer anything more, I inwardly winced. For the reputed talker, he can clam up quickly. After taking a sip I tried again, “I’m sorry it’s just that we are complete strangers and I couldn’t help but wonder why you are being nice to me. If it wasn’t for the fact that you are a well known public figure I would be closer to terrified than flattered.”

Ben looked up quickly, a certain sadness clouding his beautiful eyes. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I’m just so used to people quite literally screaming at me that I got a little too excited about the fact that you didn’t. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sheepishly looked at me under his bangs that decided to start cork-screwing. Me with my pin straight blond hair, I’d kill for hair to just curl like that. Then again most people say they would kill for the fact that my hair hardly frizzes and just dries straight.

“You didn’t really frighten me. I was just wondering, that’s all.” How to bring this back to a casual place? I thought, “Let’s start over. My name is Isabelle, I’m vacationing from Quebec. I am in between jobs so to speak, I work as a Barnes and Noble store launcher. I help kick off new branches. Um, let’s see. I have two corgis, Henry and George. You?”

Ben smiled, “My name is Ben, I live in London. I too, am in between jobs. I’m an actor. No pets but I’d love to have a dog.”

I smile, he’s so easy to talk to, to be with. We talked until our coats and clothing was dry and our glasses refilled several times over. By the time either of us thought of food, it was long past 6pm and both of us far too in our cups to move far for the food we agreed food was in order.

The bar didn’t boast a kitchen, therefore we needed to leave for any type of food that would be called filling. Back into our jackets, the two of us stumbled gracefully to the exit; leaning on each other like old friends. Perhaps by then we were friends. We somehow talked about everything; relationships, homelife, education, politics, you name it. What was most interesting was that we not only didn’t talk about work, but completely ignored the fact that a famous actor was having a drink with a stranger in a little pub in London. By the time we stumbled into a cab and Ben rattled off an address we were just that, Ben and Izzy.

I must have fallen asleep on Ben, in our however long ride to wherever we were going, as I was jerked awake by the cab taking a sharp turn. His arm, apparently wrapped around me, held me close as the cab took yet another sharp turn.

As I started to sit up, Ben stilled me. “Wait, keep your head down. I think we are being followed.” He tried to calm me with a smile but the almost painful grip he had on my arm told me he was anything but calm.

“Followed? Sorry, but why would anyone follow you?” I didn’t mean to sound rude but I was genuinely puzzled, who would follow an actor?

“It’s alright, and I understand what you mean. Normally no one follows an actor; they just wait for us to leave the house, snap a few shots and good to go. But I have been dealing with a stalker these past few weeks and it has gotten worse. I received a note this morning telling me that “we will be together forever”. I called my publicist right away, she’s working on it but so far nothing.” He rubbed my arm with his thumb, and pulled me close. Crazy stalker aside this was rather nice. His warm firm body wrapped around mine, he smelled of rain and some woodsy scent.

I sat up quick, a thought dawning on me, “Wait how do you know I’m not in cahoots with this stalker? I’m not but you don’t know that. Why did you get a drink with me when you knew someone was looking for you?” Annoyed about his lack of concern, but also scared about the reality of the situation. We were taking hairpin turns around London to evade some lunatic stalker.

“You said you were not from around here, had only been here for twelve days, and possible the most important fact, your eyes gave you away. You had the look of utter disbelief that I was indeed who I am. If you were in “cahoots” with my stalker your eyes would have given you away.” Ben looked down at me, his other hand now caressing my cheek.

Another quick turn and he pulled away, the moment lost. He called to the cabbie, “Different address, Frank, try the parking garage and see if we can lose our mystery driver long enough to get out and get some place safe. I’ll call Pam and let her know we are coming.” Ben rattled off a different address and with a quick motion he had his phone out and was dialing Pam.

“Pam, it’s Ben, I’m in a bit of a pickle and need the safe house. I have a friend with me. We should be there in 10 minutes. Yes Frank is driving. Wonderful,” Ben talked a few minutes longer the, “Love you too. Bye”. He looked down at me, my embarrassment showing in my face, “Pam is my agent and a dear friend of the family. Think of her like an aunt.”

Not entirely reassured but feeling a bit better, emotionally, I sat back and rested my head on his shoulder once more. My stomach was churning, between the whisky, the driving, and lack of food I felt horrid. I must have whimpered slightly at the latest neck breaking turn because Ben looked at me quick, “Are you going to be sick?” He asked.

“No, well maybe if we stay in the cab any longer.” I hated how weak I felt. Ben started to say something when the cab pulled into a parking garage and started to slow.

“Isabelle, I need to you listen. When the cab comes to a stop, get out of the car and run for a set of red doors. I’ll be right behind you. I need you to run.” His eyes were wide with fear, and his grip on my shoulders painful. I could only nod.

The cab came to a stop, and time did too. I got out of the cab and ran for the doors Ben told me about. It felt as if I was never going to reach them. I could feel Ben’s hand on the small of my back, urging me on. Finally we reached the doors, both of us grabbing a handle and pulling hard. The door whipped open and we rush in. As the door closed I saw the cab pull away but could hear the screeching of another set of tires. We lean against the door, panting. What seemed like hours the run to the door was maybe a minute in length; but you would never know it by the way we were breathing. A car door slammed shut, and Ben took my hand as we ran down the hallway to another set of doors.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the frying pan and into the fire

“Pam, we are in. Lock down every exterior door. Who ever followed us made it inside the garage. Where do you want us to go?” Ben dragged me, my long legs still shorter than his struggled to keep up. “Come on Isabelle almost there.” He looked at me. At first I couldn’t read his eyes, but then I realized it wasn’t just any emotion it was regret.  
An electric buzzer then a loud clunk sound notified us that the door in front of us was open, and an echo of the same sounds said that the doors we ran through were locked. As we passed through the second doorway, a gunshot rang out.

“Pam, they have a gun and are trying to shoot the lock on the outer door. We are inside now, lock the door NOW!” Urgency sounded in Ben’s voice. Another shot. My heart was pounding, my headache nothing compared to the fear that almost paralyzed me. Once the second set of doors was locked we were able to stand still and I could take in this “safe house”.

No windows on any of the four walls. No fluorescent lighting or air ducts on the ceiling, just small air vents running along the floor. It was an open floor plan but the furniture was arranged so that it gave the appearance of a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and an eating area. The bathroom wasn't so much a room but a sectioned off area for privacy, a little fan operated by a switch at the arch way that lead into the bathroom was all that was offered for sound barrier. Each “room” had it’s own theme. The kitchen was a sleek modern set up, complete with stove, microwave, refrigerator, and sink. The living room that was also very much connected to the eating area was more woodsy; cherry wood table and chairs to match the dark mahogany of the leather sofa. No TV but a large computer monitor sat on the entertainment console. The bedroom was the most inviting, a large king sized bed with Moroccan themed decorations and bedding almost out shined the fact that two sets of pajamas were laid out. In fact everywhere there was evidence that this “safe house” was set for two.

“Ben?” Was all I could manage before his arms were wrapped around me like bands of steel. He was shaking and after a few moments I realized I was too. We stood there for several long minutes holding each other as the shock wore off. Right as we pulled back, a different door on the other end of the room opened. Ben stiffened and shoved me behind him, shielding me from the unknown, until a woman stepped through the doorway and the door slid shut and locked.

“Pam! My god you scared me. Are we secure, are we safe?” A slight tremor in his hand was all that indicated he was still shaken by the experience.

Pam walked towards us, “Yes, Benedict you are fine. The police have been notified, as have your parents and your publicist is working on a statement. Frank is fine as well, he got out in time. We would have done more for your friend but we didn't know she was coming. I’m Pamela by the way, Benedict’s agent.” She held out her hand, after shaking and the proper introductions we walked over to the living room, Ben and I taking the sofa and Pam standing. She was a wisp of a woman, but commanded a lot of attention. Her delicate features highlighted by her fiery red hair and bright green eyes.

“You said Frank got out in time, what do you mean “in time”? In time for what?” I asked, a sense of dread washing over me.

“Don’t worry about Frank, like I said he’s fine. Now you two need food and probably showers. I have a change of clothing for both of you. The refrigerator is stocked, as is the bathroom. I think you two should stay here for at least a day or so,” Pamela looked at me, “Is there anyone you would like me to call?”

I shook my head, Benedict laid a hand on my knee. Pamela’s explanation for Frank didn't put me at ease, in fact it made me more wary of the situation. Here I was, a single woman vacationing in London who runs into, of all people, Benedict Cumberbatch. We go out for drinks and on our way to, not sure where as I was too drunk to pay attention; we get followed by a crazy stalker with a gun who shoots at us as we run into a “Safe House” that has no windows or obvious exits and are put into the hands of a woman who all I have to go on is that she is “a dear family friend”. Fuck that shit.

I get up, not sure who to trust, and walk to the kitchen. I don’t know either of these people really. Yes, Benedict and I had a wonderful time chatting but both of us do that as part of our jobs, chat up strangers. I start searching for knives, or anything to protect myself with; then I start really looking at the walls. Two doors, means only two exits. One leads to a possible psycho with a gun and the other leads to places unknown, presumably the rest of the building. By appearance this safe house was a simple yet elegantly situated house designed with the minimalist in mind. Yet further evaluation indicated everything had a purpose - no one got in but more to the point, no one got out.

My vision blurs, it’s been far too long since I ate anything, and while the alcohol has burned off I’m still light headed. I over hear Benedict say, “Thanks for everything Pam, we really appreciate it. Quick question, how is the surveillance in here?” Why did he want to know about surveillance? Before I could ask Pamela responded.

“Very good, we have video cameras in all four corners. No audio but the cameras are HD and are linked to the buildings security system. The doors have bio-metric locks on the inside and out. I’ll take both of your fingerprints later. All in all, you still have privacy - we can’t hear you; but you will be well guarded. Sleep well and don’t worry, no one can get in unless we let them.” Pamela exited through the same door she entered. The door locked, and Benedict and I turned to look at each other.

In that moment we both had a decision to make, do we trust one another? Did we trust Pamela? How much were they not telling us? We knew we were stuck until Pamela returned, we also knew so far Pamela could get in and out. We were being watched but not heard, and there were more than just Pamela and Frank involved in this. What ever it was. I looked around the room and identified the four cameras, one nested in each corner. A quick glance at my cell phone indicated there was no cell reception. Benedict started towards me, I backed up as far as I could go into the counter top, fumbling with the drawer I knew held the knives.

When Benedict reached me he pinned both of my wrists to my sides and whispered in my ear, “I don’t know what is going on, you have to trust me on this. Something is going on and we need to get out of here. I don’t know how I know this but, something is wrong with Pam. I don’t think that was really Pam. In the sense that she has never acted this way, not in all the years I have known her.” Benedict slowly released my hands and brought his to my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes, “Do you trust me?”

I nod, for whatever reason I do trust him. Finally finding my voice, “Why do you have a safe house?” I don’t know if I really wanted the answer to that question. I knew why safe houses existed - witness protection, government agents; serious bodily threats that warranted a secure and remote location to stay until the threat was gone. Why would an actor need a safe house?

“Like I said, I’ve been dealing with a stalker. The worst to date, all of my actor friends can even attest to the fact that this stalker is beyond the normal scope of the fans. I had received photos of myself in my own flat as well as letters describing and depicting my life in ways you could just get from a camera through a window, it was if they were sitting right next to me. This morning was just the final warning I suppose.” He rubbed my arms, “So as things got worse, Pam and my publicist Margaret as well as my main driver Frank all sat down and created a safe house for me in London. ”

“And you trusted me?” I was still too overwhelmed by recent events to even process how Benedict was doing.

“Yes, as I said, your eyes gave you away. So you trust me?” Benedict earnestly looked at me.

“For whatever reason, yes I do. How do we get out of this?” Scared but also empowered by the fact that Ben and I were in this together.

“Good, now how good is your acting? We are going to put on a little show for our security people.” An odd look passed over Ben’s face, he gave me an equally odd smile and kissed my forehead. From that moment, I knew our lives were entwined and either we both made it out or neither of us would.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the promised smut.

We were tired, hungry, and emotionally unable to cope with what just really happened with Pamela. Ben poked about the kitchen for about ten minutes before I kicked him out and told him to shower. I wasn’t good at much but fending for myself in a kitchen was a specialty of mine.

I set a pot to boil and started cutting chicken, and broccoli. Chicken broccoli penne pasta with alfredo was one of my favorite comfort meals, and I was in desperate need of comfort. I had just poured the pasta into the water when Ben stepped out of the bathroom. A white fluffy towel slung low on his hips did little to dissuade my interest. His sculpted body, with water droplets just begging to be licked off, had been most unjustly depicted by the media. I swallowed hard, and forced myself to continue working on dinner. While I believe I just found something equally satisfying, I should provide something for him that isn’t an innuendo for any part of my body.

The pasta was drained, and all I was waiting on was the alfredo to heat so I could add my blanched broccoli and chicken. Absorbed in my own fantasy world, I didn’t hear Ben come up behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and nipped at my neck.

“How about you let me finish up here and you take a shower?” Another nip at my neck in time with a slight push from his hips.

It was like a magic button or something, my head fell back and I let out a soft moan. Yup, girly needs a shower pronto. A long hot shower. “Um, sorry. Yes I’ll go take a shower. You just need the sauce to come up to temp, and then we can eat. I’ll be done in a few.” I scuttle away before my traitorous body could offer up any side dishes for him to sample on.

“Sounds easy enough.” He let out a low laugh, it was one of those dangerous predatory warning laughs. Who ever first described his voice as a “jaguar in a cello” was right. The tingling feeling sitting low in me had turned into a dull throb.

I showered and dressed, not realizing how hungry I was until I saw two plate full of creamy alfredo with chicken and broccoli, and two glasses of wine waiting. Dinner passed pleasantly enough, we both tried to not look like neanderthals while we ate with gusto. When I confessed my lunch had been a long eight hours ago; Ben looked up, a bit of alfredo on his lip, without thinking I reached out and wiped it up. But before I could pull my hand back, he snagged my wrist and licked the sauce off of my finger. His eyes never leaving mine.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, breaking the heated moment. Ben released my hand, “Shit, I’m sorry about everything today.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I honestly only wanted to welcome you to London, not this,” he gestured to the room. We finished our meal in silence. Neither of us having much to say, anticipation for the evening overpowered the need for conversation.

We cleaned up, our motions stilted and tense. I wanted to rip his clothes off, but I knew we had to talk about this plan he had first. “I’ll dry and you can wash. We can talk about who gets the couch.” It was meant as a joke, we could start on the couch but the finish line would be crossed on the bed either way.

“I’ll wash. Thanks for dinner. As for the couch…” he trailed off. The look in his eyes, the same predatory look from before, said what I was thinking.

Shoulder to shoulder, sort of, we washed and dried dishes and whispered out the plan for escape. Over the course of a few days we would pretend to believe Pamela, that we were fine and she would eventually let us out when the threat was over. During that time we would get to know one another, play games, have sex, but eventually let cabin fever take over. After three or four days, we would just “snap”. Let it build, but have little fights, arguments, that would led to a major fight. With the end goal to be get Pamela down here to “break things up” and we demand to be released.

Satisfied with the preliminary plan and dinner cleaned up, Ben grabbed the open bottle of wine, both of our glasses, and my hand. We sat down on the sofa armed with full glasses of wine. Ben took my face in his hands and gave me the slowest sweetest kiss ever. Torn with the need to frantically kiss him back and the need to pass out. I don’t even know why he poured the wine, he looked just as torn - tired and aroused, a bad combination.

“As much as I would love to get drunk and have sex, I need sleep.” I smiled, hoping he wouldn’t take offence. As I rose, I took his hand and helped him to his feet.

“When you are right, you are right. Rain check?” He winced, “sorry poor choice of words, that’s how you got in this mess. How about tomorrow morning? I’ll meet you at this cute B’n’B. We will have coffee, be lazy…” Ben kissed me again, and whispered in my ear as he pulled me into a hug, “I hope you like to snuggle, I’m a bit of a bed hog so your choices are sleep on the couch or sleep snuggled against me.”

Enjoying just the feel of his arms around him I almost fell asleep right then and there. Finally I managed, “I’m a blanket hog. You will have to sleep very close to me if you want to get any… blankets that is.”

He smiled, “Sounds good to me.”

We put away the wine, turned off the lights and crawled into the most delectable pillowtop California King sized bed ever. Some thousand thread count sheets, and I’m sure more exciting things about the bedding. None of that mattered, we were both asleep before our heads hit the pillows. We slept, snuggled up for the whole night. I don’t even think we moved. I’m sure, if not for the slight movement of our chests from breathing, our camera watchers would have check to see if we were dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few directions this could go in - thoughts and suggestions?


	4. Chapter 4

I was dreaming, I had to be. It was the only explaination for it. I was on the largest bed I have ever seen, silken sheets and deep feather down pillows. My legs were wrapped around lean muscular thighs and a tapered waist. Thrust after thrust, taking me higher and higher. Finally I peaked, and heard him moan my name; together we reached for the stars and collapsed in rays of bliss.

When I finally opened my eyes, one at a time - that dream was too good to let go. I took an inventory of where I was. Not my bedroom; not my pyjamas, in fact not wearing any; I can smell coffee; and places I forgot I had hurt.

I sat up with a bolt, clutching the sheet to my chest frantically trying to remember why I wasn’t worried about this scenario going to bed. And then I see him. A six foot sculpted god, from a bygone era. Blue green eyes to die for, chiseled features, and sex tossled hair. He was wearing only a pair of shorts that hit low on the hips. If not for the warm smile, and two large cups of coffee in his, if recollection stands correct, amazingly talented hands; I’d be wary. Benedict Cumberbatch is an imposing individual; half dress or half mast, makes a woman get a bit breathless.

“Good Morning Izzy-Bella,” he plants a kiss on my cheek, hands me my coffee and climbs back into bed. I happily take a sip of coffee, holding the mug with both hands. Ensconced in the aroma and flavor of my coffee I hardly noticed the sheet being pulled away.

I peek over the edge of the mug, Ben is kneeling between my legs with his arms braced on either side of my pillow. I can see the freckles and the little laugh lines make up artist try to cover and the media blots out. He seems younger, playful; not at all worried about what was before us.

“Drink your coffee love, we have all day to enjoy ourselves,” a wicked smile crossed his face. Ben feathered little kisses across my chest and onto my stomach then lower. With his fingers he parted and stroked, and with his tongue he laved at my apex. My head lolls back, I lose myself in Ben’s attentions. My coffee sloshes and a hot drop falls to my fevered skin. I hear a slightly smug laugh as one hand reaches up and steadied my hands. “Careful now, we don’t want a mess,” he murmurs against me. Two fingers press in deep and my back arches. A moan escapes my lips as a third finger joins. Slowly he brings me higher and higher, and then finally I come. He wrings every shudder out of me, and holds me steady. When I finally open my eyes, I see Ben’s head resting on my stomach and a pleased look on his face. “Enjoying your coffee?” He feigns innocence.

There was no point in drinking my coffee, I leaned to one side to set my mug down. Once it was securely set on the nightstand, Ben rolled us over. I sat, straddling him, hands press against his chest, “Good morning to you too.” I lean down and kiss him, then whisper in his ear, “Shall I return the favor?”

“Only if you wish,” his hips spoke on their own. Grinding against me slowly.

Ben watched me intently as I placed kiss after kiss, trailing slowly lower. I paused only to hook my thumbs in the band of his shorts, then continued down. I deftly avoided his swollen member and admired his lean muscular legs. I teased him, only slightly; I blew gently over the head and then flicked my tongue over the tip. His hips thrusted forward on their own accord. I repeated, letting my hands wander close but didn’t touch until he begged. With a swiftness that surprised us both, I took him deep in my mouth as my hands cupped and caressed his sac. His hands tentatively at first fingered my hair, but as I grew more confident his fingers threaded through my hair and guided me. It wasn’t forceful, just guiding. I felt his sac tighten, he tried to pull my head, tried to get me to let go, but I wouldn’t let him. One last time, I took him in my mouth and savored the salty tang.

His breathing was ragged as I released him with a distinct pop. I slowly crawled up and snuggled in against him, then we fell asleep.

Ben woke me an hour or so later, shaking my shoulder. “Up, time to get up Isabelle.” There was an odd tenor in his voice. He slid out of bed and dressed quickly, tossing clothing at me in the process. “You might want to be dressed,” Ben pressed a kiss to my forehead then walked to the kitchen to restart the coffee pot.

I dressed quickly, nervously, unsure why the sudden change came over him. Then I saw it. A laptop on the coffee table with a note on it. It wasn’t there last night and while I wasn’t paying attention this morning I didn’t recall seeing it. Someone came in while we were sleeping or otherwise engaged.

“Ben?” I called out to him.

He looked at me quickly then to the laptop, “Come and fix your coffee love.”

I got out of bed on shaky legs and walked over to him. He casually wrapped his arms around me and pretended to nuzzle my neck. He whispered in my ear, “It wasn’t here this morning when I first got up. I woke when I heard the door close.” This time Ben really did kiss my neck, and held me tighter, “I need you to pretend you don’t care, that everything is fine. If not for you then for me.”

At first I wasn’t sure what that meant, then belatedly realized we were both shaking slightly. Someone came in while we were sleeping, they would have known if we were awake or not with the cameras. I shuddered again remembering the cameras and what they saw earlier.

“What do you want for breakfast Ben?” I asked, as playfully as I could.

“You mean I can’t have you,” he spun me around, laughing. If I didn’t know any better I would have never believed the man nervous or scared. He truly was a remarkable actor. Ben took my hand, “Come over here and let’s see what surprise Pam left us.”

He reached the laptop first, I was only a few paces behind and couldn’t read the note but I did see the color drain from his face briefly. Ben handed me the note. It was simple and straight to the point:

> _Benedict,_
> 
> _You have disappointed me darling. This was supposed to be our moment together, instead you brought a harlotte with you. Enjoy your time with her, it won’t last. I do forgive you, but I am upset. Soon we will be together, together we will watch her scream. Then I’ll make all your fantasies come true._
> 
> _Your true love_

 We sat heavily on the sofa, breakfast and coffee forgotten. Ben opened the laptop, inside was yet another note. Dread washed over me. Ben’s hands shook as he read aloud,

> _Benedict and Isabelle, I’m sorry I missed you. Here is a laptop with access to netflix. For your safety everything else is blocked. The police have no update so far. We are waiting to issue a statement to the public. I’ll be down in the next day or so to check in on you. - Pam_

I sat back on the sofa, another quick glance told me the handwriting didn’t match. I wasn’t expecting it to but there was some odd relief that they didn’t. The laptop it turned out came with a projector, we hooked it up and watched old black and white movies. We did little else that day. Ben and I forced ourselves to eat some kind of lunch and again at dinner time. When we did talk it was briefly, we vainly held on to the guise that we were not thrown by the first letter, or the surprise visit, or that Pamela locked us in here for a few days longer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the rest of the story - very unbeta, I'm throwing it up here because the idea of an unfinished story (abet a odd one and probably not at all close to the word good) should be completed.

One day stretched into two, and two into four. No news, no letters - nothing. Over the course of those four days we enjoyed each other’s company. We had enough in common to talk about freely; we both appreciate Shakespeare but don’t really think he is the end all to be all playwright that some people make him out to be, and that while yes he would make an excellent Mr. Darcy it would just be too obvious. We talked about our favorite films, and music interests, and the latest art exhibit at the London Museum. And on several occasions we remarked how, had it not been for this kidnapping as we were now calling it, we would have probably started dating.

By day five, we started putting our plan into motion. What we didn’t take into account was the fact that we were truly enjoying our time getting to know one another.  But we were here, and decided that day five was going to end with a big fight.

We let it build; argued over which movie to watch, who had to do dishes, no making out. We would let cabin fever take over. Our grand finale was going to be wonderful, I was going to make pasta and at dinner Ben was going to flip his plate and the table in a fit of rage, I would start crying, and if it had to come to it Ben was going to start “beating” me. It would have been great. Best laid plans of mice and men.

Pamela choose to enter right after a little “who is doing the dishes” spat after lunch. “Benedict, Isabelle, I’m so sorry to have kept you both waiting. I have a change of clothes for both of you, if you wish to get changed and then you can leave.” We were so surprised by her statement we almost didn’t register the two burly men walking in with a change of clothes for each of us.

“Thank you Pam, we will get changed and meet you in an hour? So I guess you will need our fingerprints right?” Ben and I walked towards her. She nodded, took our prints and programed them in. We tested the door with her to make sure they worked then Pamela and the two burly men left.

Ben pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “I want to think I misjudged her, but I think our situation is going to go from bad to worse.” He kissed me briefly and then walked over to the bed, when he stopped suddenly I knew something was wrong.

He held up the outfit, a three piece suit. A beautiful navy suit with white button down; the tie was a teal paisley, and the dress shoes were shined. I walked over and looked at my outfit. A lavender silk sheath, with a Queen Ann neck line. They thought of everything and had my size just right, from the sling back black patent leather heels, to the bra and underwear. They even found us accessories to complement our outfits, a diamond tie tack for Ben and beautiful diamond necklace with earrings for me.

We looked at one another, and wordlessly started to undress one another and headed for the shower. Without speaking we made our way to the shower, set the temperature and both of us stepped inside. I don’t know how Ben was feeling but I felt violated and angry.

After several long minutes of Ben soaping up the loofa, “We have to wear the outfits, you know that right?” Ben said as he washed my back with the loofa. His hands moved to my front and started massaging my breasts, I backed up and pressed by bottom against him. He let out a soft moan. Between the fan, the steam, and the shower spray we felt safe in the shower. We could relax just for a moment.

The shower spray beat down on me, my skin tingling. Ben’s tanned hands roamed over my pale body leaving no spot unwashed or unloved. I let my head fall back and rest on his shoulder as my hips took control and slowly undulated against him. I felt him hardening.

I turned, and reached between us and guided him to me, “Right now I don’t really care what I wear, I only care that I am with you.” I wrapped my legs around his waist and he pressed me against the wall of the shower, one last time. He slid inside and for a moment we were the only two people who existed. He kissed me hard and then started to move.

It was fast and frenzied; and when we left the shower, and laid on the bed it was slow and sweet. Slowly we dressed, both of us taking care with our presentation. If we were going to look good, by god we would knock them dead. A quick glance at our reflections made us pause.We were dressed for the red carpet, why did Pamela and her henchmen wanted us dressed this way? Unable to truly answer that question and lacking the time to give it any more thought, we decided it was time to leave. Hand in hand, we walked towards the door; one last kiss for the camera or for ourselves and we unlocked the door. Letting it swing open first then stepping out into the doorway, we made our way out into the hall.

A long narrow and poorly lit corridor greeted us. It sloped up at a gradual angle and turned slightly as well. About halfway down the hall, we would neither see the door we left through nor could we see the end of the hall. The lights were recessed seamlessly into the ceiling, and there was no other obvious doors or breaks in the wall. It took us ten minutes of walking to reach the end of the hall. A door with another biometric lock greeted us, a press of the finger and the door silently slid open. This time there was no place to hide as the door opened, if something waited for us on the other side there was no hiding from it.

“Benedict, Isabelle. So good of you to join us.” A female voice sounded from above, the room was dark and had an odd scent to it. Ben held my hand tightly. I looked around and peered into the darkness to see something, anything; nothing.

“Pamela is that you?” I called out. Slowly we walked further into the room. It was carpeted, and muffled our footsteps.

“No, Pamela isn’t here right now, but I’ll take good care of you Benedict. Don’t you worry.” The female voice spoke again, “Benedict you do have the most remarkable body. It’s a shame you wasted all that time with this tramp. She can’t give you what I can.”

The lights turned on quickly. Momentarily stunned we both let go of the other’s hand to shield our eyes. Blinded I could only reach out as I listened to someone over power and subdue Ben, I tried to yell but my voice wouldn’t work. Two large calloused hands grabbed me and forced me into a chair. I could hear Ben yelling and fighting but also getting hit.

Suddenly a gunshot sounded and the lights dimmed to a semi dark level. I was tied to a chair, my arms behind my back and my ankles to respective chair legs. I looked up to find Ben, my handsome beautiful Ben, slouched in his chair. His hands were also tied behind his back and his ankles bound, but when he looked up I could see they bloodied his nose or lip. He took quite a beating in the few moment we were blinded by the light.

“No, Ben. God no,” was all I could say before a gag was ruthlessly shoved into my mouth. Ben’s eyes were wide with terror but he too was gaged. All we could do was sit and stare at each other, helpless. Belatedly I realized neither of us were shot, I look to see who was or who held the gun.

A woman, dressed in a sequined crimson dress, it was strapless and had two long slits up the sides that went well past her hip. A gun in one hand and a phone in the other she walked towards us.

“I am so sorry Benedict that my boys had to rough you up. Although you do look sexy this way. I loved you in “Little Favor” this kind of reminds me of that. I’ll fix you up in just a moment, but first what to do with this hussy?” She walked over to me, caressing my cheek with the end of the gun. I stiffened and tried to pull away but she pressed the end of the gun to the base of my neck. She made a tsking sound of disapproval, “Now Isabell that is no way to behave. Benedict and I are trying to have a conversation and you are being rude. Take her away.”

Two men appeared out of the dark and carried me off, Ben struggled against his bindings but the woman hit him and rendered him unconscious. I was carried up a flight of stairs and into a room with a window that gave me a few of the room I was just in. I could see Ben slouched in his chair and the woman petting his hair. My gag was removed and my ankles untied, I was roughly moved to another chair then they were gone. A large male hand rested on my shoulder as I tried to get up.

“Sit still you idiot.” Pamela said, “ Honestly if I could have killed you before you two got to the safe house I would have, now I have to wait. She said I could have him but I have to wait to kill you first.”

Stunned speechless I could only stare at her, Pamela was in on it! Little help that gives us considering Ben is tied to a chair and is held at gunpoint by our presumed stalker and I am stuck in a room with Pamela and a man. The man in question was Frank our driver.

Finally regaining my speech, “Wait a minute, so the driver following us and the shooting was staged?” Anger swiftly over powering my fear, I stood.

“Yes, now sit down and shut up or I’ll have Frank silence you properly.” Pamela made a dismissive gesture to Frank who stood in the corner with a double barrel shot gun. A yell of pain brought my attention back to the window. A cut bleed freely on Ben’s face, but the man who was hit by Ben looked far worse for wear. Ben’s hands were still tied but his ankles freed and the gag removed. The woman let out an evil cackle as she kicked her minion out of the way.

“Bring me another chair, Benedict and I have to chat. We have a lot of catching up to do.” She stood in front of him as a chair was brought forward. He was forced to sit down, and his legs retied. The chair was wider this time, forcing his legs farther apart. It took me a moment to figure out what she was going to do until I watched her straddle him. She kissed him and writhed against him. Touched him, stroked him, all the while keeping a tight grip on his hair. She knew he had sensitive hair follicles, Ben moaned but not out of pleasure. He was in serious pain and she was enjoying it.

Pamela slammed her fist on the window, “No! He’s mine, she said I could have him and she’s hurting him. I won’t allow it!” She rushed to the door, tried to swing it open but was stopped by Frank.

“Sorry Miss Pamela, I have to follow orders.” Without a blink Frank hit her, Pamela crumpled into a pile at his feet. Frank looked me in the eye, and without blinking shot the wall behind us. “Now they think you are dead, I’ll clear a path for you. Hurry and get him out of here. On the other side of the room there is a door, no lock it goes right outside and we have a car waiting. Madame psycho is plotting to kidnap and obviously have her way with Benedict, but I know you can stop her. Go, quick!” Frank untied my hands and helped me to my feet. Speechless I stood there absorbing all that he said.

“Go Now!” Frank said and then louder, “Shit Pamela, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to shoot the girl. It’s just that she was looking crazy.” With a wink he opened the door and rushed out.

Ben yelled out, thinking I was dead; he fought the psycho bitch who still sat on his lap grinding against him.

Carefully I slipped out of my heels and into Pamela’s flats, said a quick word of thanks that she wore the same sized shoe and slipped out of the room. As I crept down the stairs, I took off my jewelry, left in only my dress I eased into the room.

Now what? Well I knew I had no weapon, I have no fighting skills to my name, and I was wearing a skin tight silk dress. What I did have was great people skills or so my resume stated. An idea formed, not a good one, in fact it could be a terrible one if Ben doesn’t play along but it was all I had. That or find a gun and shoot the bitch; I wasn’t opposed to it, but since she was sitting on him and I have no idea how good or bad my aim is I’d rather  not take that chance.

“Oh good, you have him warmed up for me.” I walked over to Ben and the Bitch, she was taken aback and didn’t put up much of a fight as I eased her hands off of his head. Keeping my eyes locked on her’s I took Ben’s head in my hands, tilted it to one side and bit down on his neck. After putting a nice love mark high on that gloriously long neck of his, I released his head and started massaging his shoulder blades. I had slid a knife into the garter of my thigh high stockings, and shifted enough for him to reach it with his hands. He had to tilt his head back and stretch his shoulders down to reach it but it played well with my charade. It looked as though he was loving my hands on him as he rested his head upon my chest. When I felt the rope hit my feet, I pressed him forward so that I could rub his chest and he could better regain circulation in his wrists and back. By now the Psycho Bitch was mad that I was trying to steal her prize.

“I know you aren’t done with him, but I thought we could enjoy him together. You take front and I’ll take back. How does that sound? Let’s help him out of these clothes and help ourselves to a little piece of Benedict.” I pushed her off gently, and reached around him to unbuckle his belt.

“No, You take front and I’ll take back. I’ve always admired his ass, and now he thank me with his long fingers,” Psycho pulled her dress aside to relieve that not only was she not wearing any undergarments she was as bald as a newborn. Still holding the gun in one hand, she bent over to pick up the phone she had tossed aside. “Karl, we need you.” She tossed the phone against the wall, it shattered. “Now where were we, Yes, Isabelle was going to blow you away and I was going to let you finger a harp or something like that. And if either of you don’t, I’ll literally blow you away.” Psycho stood, and pointed the gun at me, motioning me to move forward.

Ben’s legs were still tied and now the rope from his hands were on the floor. My plan was not working.

“Wait, before either of you have your way with me, I have two requests,” Ben spoke up, a dangerous look in his eyes that I had never seen before, “First, I’d like to be untied completely and Second, my lovely lady in crimson what is your name?”

She thought for a moment, “We will untie you on one condition, you are not to say a word. Moan all you want, but no talking. As for the second request, you don’t recognize your biggest fan? I’ve sent you love letters. Pamela was always so good about helping me get to you. I just wanted to tell you that I loved you. Did you know that to get her to go along with my plan all I had to do was promise her that after I ruined you publicly I would let her have her way with you. We had it all planned out. We would take photo’s here, compromising you to the eyes of the world and then Pamela was going to whisk you away to a little house in Germany where you would have learned an all new side to little dominatrix Pamela.” She pointed at me, “Untie his legs I know his hands are free.”

But instead of untying his legs, I stepped back, Ben moved forward and fell to his knees. I grabbed the knife and charge at the Psycho stalker. I tackled her, our legs now tangled in the  long skirts of our dresses as we fought Ben untied his legs.

“Izzy Now!” I rolled off, and Ben brought the chair down hard on our stalker’s head. She went limp, I grabbed Ben’s hand and we took off for the door Frank told me about.

Right as we reached the door a large figure stepped in front, “No so fast.” I could hear  shotgun being loaded. “Hands on your head, both of you come on,” the business end of a shotgun motioned us towards the door. One hand opened the door while the other held the muzzle train on us. Ben stumbled, his vision was blocked by the blood from his head wound. The man jabbed at him with the shotgun, “I said move!”

We started walking, and there, just like Frank said it would, sat the car. “Into the car.” This time I got jabbed and stumbled forward, Ben reached out to catch me. “No, I said hands up!” A fist flew out of nowhere to Ben’s side, I cry out, “Shut it, into the car now.” I climb in and Ben follows, the door slams shut and then a gun is fired. A body slams up against the car, I scream. Blood now streams down the window.

The driver side door opens. I hold onto Ben for dear life, he is losing consciousness. I start to worry we won’t make it out alive.

“Hold on to him, we are going straight to St. Barts.” Frank says over his shoulder and off we go.

The journey to the hospital and the subsequent few days spent at the hospital passed in a blurr. I can’t tell you how I ended up in the hospital bed next to Ben, nor can I tell you why security was posted outside of our door. What I can tell you is that for the three days Ben remained unconscious were the most terrifying days of my life, and that’s saying something considering the few days prior I was held at gun point. When his eyes open I all but flew off my bed to his side.

“I love you Benedict Cumberbatch, you hear me, I love you!” I laid kisses all over his face, holding him and crying for the joy that we made it out alive. His free hand, not held down with an IV reached up  and brushed tears away, he drew my face back down to his and kissed me.

“I love you too Isabelle.” Ben smiled at me, and I knew we made it.

A few days past, and we were both sitting in a hotel suite outside of Paris. Ben had mostly recovered from his wounds, and only had a few stitches on his forehead to contend with. Talking with Frank, and Ben’s publicist Margaret we learned that Pamela had been obsessed with Benedict for years. She worked her way into his life to become his agent, so that she could be as close to him as possible. When Ben realized he was being stalked and approached Pamela about it she took the opportunity to meet with the stalker and hatch a plan to get Benedict once and for all to herself. Frank went along with it, knowing that when the time came someone would have to save Ben, I was merely a kink in the plans. Watching the news we found that Pamela was arrested and our stalker, a woman Ben meet at University named Clair, was also arrested. Both were charged with kidnapping.

Frank and Margaret arranged for us to have a week in Paris, before we made our way back to London to face the press. After they left, we spent time in the jacuzzi and then lazed about for the rest of the day.

“Isabelle, when we get back to London technically your vacation will be over. What will you do?” Ben said as he snuggled up against me.

“I was thinking about that, I can work from just about anywhere. There is a new Barns and Noble branch opening just outside of London, I put in for the store manager position and if I want it, I can start in two weeks. So technically I have two more weeks of vacation and then I’m going to move into my flat in London.” I smiled up at him, we know each other so well but still had a long way to go if we wanted to make this work.

“Really? Your flat. Is that what you are calling our place?” Ben kissed me.

“Mr. Cumberbatch if that is your way of asking me out and further asking me to live with you, you might want to try again.”

“I’m not asking you out, I believe I’m going to ask you to marry me.” He rolled off the bed and reached for his pants pocket and pulled out a little blue box. “Isabelle Morris will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes!” Was all I could manage, tears of joy streamed down my face.

“Well then future-Mrs. Cumberbatch, we have two weeks to enjoy in Paris, and then we will take London by storm with a wedding!”

**With that we knew we could face anything, as long as we had eachother we would be unstoppable. Who knew rain was good luck?**


End file.
